


Stolen

by phancydancingqueen



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phancydancingqueen/pseuds/phancydancingqueen
Summary: This was inspired by the fic Pawn Takes King (I believe that's what it's called). In no way am I trying to copy that fic, I'm simply taking my own turn on it. I'm honestly not sure if that's allowed, considering I'm very new at this. But the idea for this is from Pawn Takes King, as I really enjoyed that fic and wanted to see what I could do with the whole idea of John being taken by Moriarty willingly (or as willingly as this states it, anyways). If you haven't read that fic already, you definitely should, as it is amazing! Again, I'm not trying to copy the fic word-for-word, just taking my own turn on it. Enjoy!





	Stolen

"All _I ask is to have Johnny. Nothing more, nothing less. Do we have a deal, Ice Man?"_ James Moriarty requested over the phone.

Mycroft Holmes was not a man that got scared often. This moment, this conversation he was having now, though, made him more scared than he had ever been. Even more scared than when his brother, Sherlock, thought he had a dog named Redbeard instead of a best friend he played pirate with. Even more scared, in fact, than when he realised that Sherlock was a drug addict, and that was one of the scariest moments of his life.

He swallowed nothing as he prepared to answer this spider of a man who could very well be right outside the building he was inside of now.

"I...yes. We-we have a deal, Moriarty." Mycroft said shakily, not wanting to have to face Sherlock's wrath in a matter of minutes.

_"Oh, goody! I'm so very happy you've agreed, and most likely without even asking him. Should come as a surprise, and you do know how I love surprises, don't you, now? Well, I'll send a car over in two days t retrieve him, give him a while to pack and get ready. Of course you do know I will have my best snipers set in place to make sure nothing goes wrong. If something does happen that doesn't follow our plan, well.... Let's just say someone might not be living anymore, shall we? I think I've covered everything, so I look forward to seeing my Johnny soon! Thank you again for making this decision, Ice Man. It's very helpful. Ta-ta!"_ The Irishman hung up the phone before Mycroft could get in another word.

"There'll be hell to face soon..." Mycroft thought aloud, picking up his umbrella and pocketing his cell phone. He had a brother to visit.

 

                           ~•~

 

"How could you possibly make a deal with that-that  _snake_ when you know it's not a good idea, Mycroft?! And especially without asking John if he's okay with it!" Sherlock whisper-yelled at the front door where his older brother was standing.

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, brother mine, but the man threatened to have you and John both killed if I didn't agree. He has no mercy; you of all people should know that." Mycroft retorted, stepping inside and greeting a nervous Mrs. Hudson, who was making tea in the downstairs kitchen.

"I don't care if I die, you idiot, I care about John's safety and what he thinks is best for himself!" Sherlock followed his brother upstairs, yelling nonstop about how what Mycroft did was wrong and irresponsible.

A day had already passed since the world's only consulting criminal had called Mycroft, and he regretted not telling Sherlock and John about this sooner. John had one more day until James's car would be there to collect him, and Mycroft was worried about what would happen when they discovered this.

"What is going on that requires–oh. Mycroft. Never mind, then. What've you done this time?" John used this as a sort of greeting, and Mycroft sneered at him.

"Well, that's one way to greet your 'best friend's brother." Mycroft said, lifting his chin a bit higher.

"Look, Mycroft, I don't need your sarcasm. Why are you here?" John sighed, sitting down in his chair that was across from Sherlock's.

"I'm here because a certain criminal called me the day before yesterday saying he wanted you. Just that. To quote him, 'nothing more, nothing less.' He threatened to have both you and Sherlock killed if I didn't comply. I obviously didn't have enough time to visit and ask if this was okay, so naturally I had to agree. John...I'm sorry to say you only have until around 8:30 tonight. I would have come yesterday, but our little consulting criminal decided he wanted to breach the largest bank in London." Mycroft explained to John.

"So, what you're saying is I have no choice but to pack a bag, like, now, and be ready to leave in a few hours?" John asked.

"If you'd like to put it dumbly, yes, that is the general idea, John." Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Someone's irritated." John muttered, and without another word, got up to go pack.

Sherlock turned to his brother, glaring as if he could burn holes in the other's head.

"Having a tantrum isn't going to help, Sherlock. Moriarty is getting John, one way or another." Mycroft told him, and Sherlock huffed, going over to his chair and slumping down in it.

"You can leave, if you'd like. We don't need you here anymore, necessarily." Sherlock spat. Mycroft turned on his heel and walked out of the apartment, umbrella in hand.

"Sherlock? Could you grab my favourite mug and wrap it, please?" John called from his bedroom.

"May I ask why you'd need it?" Sherlock shouted back, wrapping the mug in newspaper (clean newspaper, mind you) nonetheless.

"I know there'll be mugs wherever he decides to cage me, but I'd like to have at least some type of connection to the flat while I'm gone." John said, his voice fading a bit at the end.

John was sitting on his bed, making sure he'd packed everything he assumed he'd need. Clothes of all sorts, for he didn't know how long he'd be there, his toiletries, and his handgun, which he doubted he'd be able to keep. It still connected him to the flat, in a way. He did, after all, kill a man with it who almost killed Sherlock.

That was his last bullet.

John walked back out to the kitchen, where Sherlock was carefully wrapping his mug. It was almost as if he was afraid he'd break it if he wasn't delicate enough.

"Sherlock, I will eventually be back. I don't know when, but you and I both know that Moriarty gets bored quickly and easily. Not much unlike yourself, might I add. However, I will be allowed to return. I have that much hope and faith." John told Sherlock.

"I know, John. I just don't know what he wants with you. Why does he want to take you? Why?" Sherlock finished wrapping the mug and settled his hands on it, thinking silently.

Once John realised he had gone into the fabled mind palace, he slid the mug out from undernath his hands, and into his rucksack. He led Sherlock over to his chair and plopped him down in it, sitting across from him and waiting for a call, a text, a doorbell, anything that would signify that Moriarty's car was at the flat.

After what seemed like ages, John got a text.

_Car is waiting, Johnny. Whenever you're ready. JM_

John tried getting Sherlock's attention, but realised after a bit that it was hopeless. He merely left a note for him, and walked out of the flat without a look back. He didn't want to leave, but he knew it'd be easier if he didn't look at it again.

It was time to go, and John was ready. Nervous, but ready.


End file.
